A New Defense Teacher, Of Course
by Cori Aileen
Summary: Lucius' estranged daughter returns to the only safe haven she has ever known, Hogwarts. Taking the post of DADA professor, she acquires Snape's loathing and the curiosity of the students. PostOotP and preHBP.
1. Number 12, Grimauld Place

Istelle stood between number 11 and number 13 Grimauld Place; casting a glance left and right, she established that number 12 did not rest past either residence. Shaking her head slowly, she walked off the curb and crossed the street to where her black midsize sat idling. With a huff she pulled open the door and plopped in the driver's seat to lean across the passenger seat and reach inside the glove compartment and extract an emerald green envelope with gilded lettering.

There was no return address, not even her address, only the name "Istelle Cressida Malfoy" in ornate lettering. Turning the envelope over in her hands she removed the parchment inside and unfolded it to reveal the rather long winded instructions she had been given.

Istelle let her breath out slowly, trying to release the frustration building in her gut, and climbed back out of her car, slamming the door shut. With her chin tilted at a defiant angle, she marched back to the place where a rather large manor was supposed to be. Cursing under her breath as she shuffled through the parchment, she felt a determination that had become an unfortunate norm. What was it about this mysterious letter, from the previously unknown Order of the Phoenix, which inspired such aggravation - and thus an odd sort of motivation - in her?

As she sorted through the papers, in a frenzy that was barely contained, she caught the flash of a tiny paper scrap dropping from its place wedged between two maps she had been provided with. Squinting down at the toe of her tennis shoe, where the fragment had drifted lazily to, she made out the words written in dark ink: "The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is at Number 12, Grimauld Place." Istelle thought hard about this, how could a house that didn't exist be used as a headquarters?

No sooner had she begun to ponder her dilemma than numbers 11 and 13 began to slide apart, and a house was eagerly squeezing itself into the space provided. Doors and windows and rooms were building onto each other, sliding and positioning themselves into a large mansion. In mere seconds it sat there, as if it had been resting in that same spot since she had arrived.

Approaching the house cautiously, as she did not trust an inanimate object this large that could hide itself so well, and seem so gleefully smug about it, Istelle stepped over cracked stones and the remains of a garden to reach the front door. The house held a shadow of former magnificence that was slightly tarnished by its dilapidated state. Istelle took hold of the grimy door knocker shaped like a menacing serpent and brought it down twice on the thick wood door. To her horror a loud shriek began to emit from beyond the door, and she quickly withdrew her hand with a cringe. Inside she could hear people bustling around, and then the door was flung open to a great commotion. Three short people seemed to be struggling with a rather violent portrait of a wheezing old woman. The old bag in the portrait struggled with all she had to hold the curtains open and roar obscenities.

Her gaze moved wildly around the room, damning every person she saw until her eyes fell upon Istelle.

"You!" the portrait shrieked louder than ever. The person that had opened the door hurried Istelle inside and slammed the door in case the portrait's words carried out to the muggle neighbors.

"You filthy little blood traitor! You are worse than these filthy mudbloods and half beasts. Dare you step in my house?"

Istelle chose not to reply, but instead gazed around at the hall she was standing in. The house seemed much cleaner on the inside, and looked to have under gone a recent and thorough cleaning. The dark mahogany walls were recently scrubbed of grime and the balustrade and staircase gleamed from a very fresh waxing. Heavy purple curtains decorated the thick glass windows flanking the front door, and a magnificent swag adorned the barren wall above the only door in the foyer, just opposite of Istelle.

The portrait seemed to be waiting for a comeback, some amount of self-defense that Istelle would not give. The short people, who Istelle now realized upon closer inspection were teenagers and not just vertically challenged, took the lapse of the portrait's attention as an opportunity to close the curtains over her.

The woman who had opened the door was plump and motherly, with a mane fiery red hair. "Hello there dear, you must be Miss Malfoy. I'm Molly, and those three back there are Harry, Ron and Hermione. It's their sixth year at Hogwarts." If it were possible Molly's smile grew even wider. "Ron's a Prefect you know, I was so shocked he made it, but so pleased. He's the third in the family." She smiled at the tall redheaded boy, standing between the other two, who turned crimson in the cheeks. "Well now, I'm sure you had no trouble with muggles, very nicely dressed." She smiled halfheartedly at Istelle's jeans and black tee. "This way dearie, we're in the dining room." Istelle followed her, careful not to let her misgivings show. She felt eyes on her back, but when she turned around the three teenagers snapped their heads down and pretended to be studying their sneakers.

"She has arrived Dumbledore!" Molly cried cheerfully as she threw open the door, calling Istelle's attention to the room they had entered. A large wooden table stood in the middle of the room and several witches and wizards sat around it. It was hard to get a better view of the room with all the people blocking her way, so she simply took her seat next to Molly.

"Hello Miss Malfoy!" Dumbledore said cheerfully, as she sat and wished people would stop being polite and referring to her like that. "You've met Molly Weasley, obviously-" Molly giver her a wide smile. "And I believe you remember Minerva from school-" Professor McGonagall, her old Transfiguration professor, gave her a small nod. "And I further believe you had Severus as your Potions Master-" Professor Snape gave her a quick forced smile that made the hairs on Istelle's neck rise. "The rest are new to you," Dumbledore continued. "Our Aurors-" several people nodded and smiled, and Istelle vaguely recognized her cousin, Nymphadora, though they had only met a handful of times when they were kids, and never since her grandparents passed away. "Remus and Arthur-" The two older men smiled warmly at her. "And this is Mundungus and Abba." Dumbledore finished as the last of the seated people greeted her. "It took a bit of persuasion to get you away from California, did it not Miss Malfoy?" Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling and a smile playing across his lips.

"Well, yes, a bit." Istelle said, her face heating to a becoming shade of red. "But who'd willingly leave the beach for London, eh?" She joked rather lamely with a crooked smile, as everyone looked back at her blankly.

"Well Miss Malfoy, I think we ought to fill you in," Snape said in a drawling voice that reminded her of sitting in a dark dungeon fretting about ingredients.

"Well, you can call me Istelle. I'd actually prefer it." She replied, but Snape spoke on as though she had not made a sound.

"The Dark Lord was restored to a body the summer before last, and since the Ministry did not believe us until a few weeks ago we reunited the Order of the Phoenix. We managed to keep Voldemort from gaining a very powerful weapon and arrest several Death Eaters. All with the help of a rather want to be hero-" Dumbledore coughed lightly but Snape continued unperturbed, "- who lead his friends into a trap and blundered his way to victory, of course." Snape took a breath and stared around at the group. They all nodded that he had gotten right, though some seemed to have disagreed with his wording.

"They got their hands on Lucius, I trust?" Istelle said rather blandly after taking in all that Snape had said.

"Indeed," Snape said with the tiniest of smiles.

"Well then I suppose there is no use for me." Istelle said slowly, not wanting to be involved in any of this. She had a very nice life in the States, and was not about to abandon it to go careening after dark wizards. "I have no interest in playing little Miss Spy for you Dumbledore. I knew only one Death Eater for sure, that was my father, since he has been apprehended I feel it is not necessary for me to stay." Istelle began to rise, realizing she had wasted two whole days on this, days she could have spent working and earning money.

"Istelle, sit down." Dumbledore commanded firmly. However intimidating he had been when he was her Headmaster at Hogwarts there wasn't a trace of it. She had escaped this for eight long years and she refused to be dragged into it again. "Istelle he will find you there. You cannot go back." Dumbledore warned as she turned her back to him and walked towards the door.

"Who's found me? And where?" She asked, continuing her path towards the door. Istelle could not ignore Dumbledore' warnings, he did not give false statements just to make some one stay where he wanted, but she had not yet resigned herself to believing that life as she knew it would change. Again.

"Surely you must've known Voldemort-" everyone but Dumbledore and Istelle winced "- would've ensured the Dementors support to him by offering them that which the Ministry can not? They released all the Death Eaters we captured. We have no way of imprisoning them, and they are on a rampage." Dumbledore explained calmly, as if the thought of evil soul-sucking fiends storming around was a mild nuisance...

"That does not answer my questions. So Lucius is out, I didn't expect that slippery scum to be imprisoned long. But that does not mean he could find me, I have stayed out of his reach this long haven't I?

"Only by your Mother's will. Your Father has known for almost six years where you have been hiding, but your mother convinced him not to harm you." Dumbledore said, almost monotonously.

Istelle breathed in sharply as if preparing to argue; instead she let the air out of her lungs slowly as her shoulders drooped. Yet again she had to abandon all she knew to start over again, and all because of her despicable father. This time she had much less places to choose from. If Lucius did not find her in California he was sure to comb the rest of America. She realized abruptly that the sensible choice would not be to run away, but to discover a safe haven just under her father's nose.

Hogwarts. 


	2. Adventures Aboard the Hogwarts Express

Harry sat in solitude aboard the Hogwart's Express. Hermione and Ron were fulfilling their prefect duties and patrolling the hallways and Dean had come by minutes before and asked Ginny if she'd like to sit with him. She, of course, accepted, and Harry was glad Ron wasn't in the compartment.

As the scenery outside blurred past, and the houses faded and trees took up their places, Harry began to drift into a light sleep. He swore he had just closed his eyes when he heard the compartment door bang open and Hermione and Ron come in, sweating and breathing hard. Harry opened his mouth to ask them what had happened but Ron answered before the words had left his mouth.

"Fight." He said simply.

"Two hulking 7th years, you'd think they were trying to kill each other the way they were carrying on." Hermione said.

"I reckon they'll be expelled, even though they never once touched their wands. They were just pummeling each other over and over. A first year was knocked in the middle of them somehow; he's not looking as though he'll make the trip across the lake conscious." Ron wiped the sweat from his brow while Hermione fanned herself with her hands.

The compartment door slid open yet again and there stood Malfoy flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. With a familiar sneer he opened his mouth to speak but Hermione interrupted him.

"Malfoy, could you let a ride pass without bothering us? Or did you three not learn your lesson last year?"

"Don't talk to me that way you filthy mudblood!" Malfoy curled his lip at Hermione as Ron jumped to his feet. Before pandemonium could break out a tall slim blonde placed her hand gently on Malfoy's shoulder, silencing him before he could throw out more insults.

"Now, now, Draco," Said Istelle Malfoy in a voice one would use when punishing a toddler. "We don't say words like that. It's not very nice, you know."

Malfoy's jaw dropped. As did Crabbe and Goyle's. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, - who had met Istelle over the summer at the Order's headquarters - seemed mildly surprised that she was on the train.

"You, why are you here?" Draco demanded roughly. But she only grabbed him by the collar and brought his face close to hers.

"How about we skip the pleasantries and you run and tell daddy I'm here?" She tossed him backwards with a great shove into Crabbe and Goyle, who caught him and set him upright. Malfoy gave a look of indignation and sulked off down the hallway.

Istelle looked back at Harry and the others with a gentle smile. "You might not remember me from Headquarters. I'm Istelle; I'm the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher."

"Yeah, yeah I remember you," said Ron darkly. "You're Miss Malfoy."

The grin faded from Istelle's lips and was replaced with a rather sad look. "I think you should refer to me as Professor Istelle from now on, for the sake of appearances." She muttered then slammed the door shut and marched away.

"Ron!" Hermione yelled. "Why would you be so rude?"

"What?" Ron replied indignantly. "She's related Draco and Lucius, why shouldn't I be rude?"

"Maybe if you had taken the time to get to know her, like Ginny and I did, you'd know she was a nice person. She hasn't even lived with the Malfoys for the last eight years! And Dumbledore trusts her!"

Ron snorted. "Dumbledore also trusts Snape. He could easily be two-timing the order."

"And he's not!" Hermione retorted. "He's betraying Voldemort and the Deatheaters."

Both Harry and Ron snorted.

The rest of the ride was rather uneventful, with a slightly tense silence in the compartment. Hermione was buried in the "Standard Book of Spells: Grade 6" and Harry and Ron were playing a game of wizard chess. It wasn't until Harry's queen impaled Ron's king with her scepter that Ron broached the subject of Istelle again.

"What's she doing on the train anyways?" Ron wondered aloud.

"Well Lupin rode the Hogwart's Express. Didn't hear you complaining then." Hermione replied over her book.

"Yeah but that was because he was poor and had no other way. I know she could've gotten here by driving, you know in the roads. She had an ottlemobill. I saw it out of the window. Kinda sleek black thing and it didn't look very fast."

"It's called an automobile Ron. And she's from the States, California to be exact, so it was probably rented from the airport."

"I've seen an airport; it's like a gathering place for big metal birds." Ron stated with pride that he knew this about the muggle world.

Hermione decided not to correct him, but continued on. "I like her; she doesn't seem to agree with the ways of the rest of the Malfoys. Plus she's seemed to have faired well among muggles so she must have self control and be very clever. And I couldn't help but overhear some of the aurors agreeing amongst themselves that she didn't fail entirely in the looks department. I'd figure that would make you like her Ron."

"Yeah, she's a little more than decent looking," Ron permitted, but then added rather softly so only Harry could hear. "Quite decent looking, so decent looking I would -" But what exactly Ron would do was unknown to Harry as Ginny slid open the door and took a seat next to Hermione.

"Istelle's on the train." Ginny stated simply, but no one else felt it necessary to reply given they had already discussed Istelle's presence just minutes before. "I overheard Malfoy-"

Harry's head swiveled to face Ginny, not even paying attention to the brutal beating one of his pawns was receiving from Ron's remaining knight. She clearly noticed the sudden attention he was giving her, because she paused to give him a slightly confused look.

"He wasn't plotting to enslave the world or whatever it is you always think he's up to, Harry." Ginny said, then swung her hair over her shoulder and continued speaking to Hermione, who had just placed her textbook in her lap. "He was going on about how furious his dad would be when he found out she was back. Crabbe and Goyle mumbled some sort of affirmative response - I'm guessing that's like some crony law, to always offer support even if you can barely string together enough words to form a sentence. So then Draco got really mad, he was practically shouting, and he said, 'If this makes my mum cry, I'll-'...well, he never said what he'd do, he just stuttered like a prat and then crossed his arms over his chest."

Hermione looked perplexed for a few moments. Ron rolled his eyes and turned back to the game, waiting for Harry to move.

"We'll be at Hogwarts in a couple of minutes, Ginny. Let's go find an empty compartment to change in." The two trotted out, leaving Harry and Ron to change alone.

"Yeah, they just want to go talk about Istelle and Draco and their mum crying for some reason. I used to think Hermione was smart." Ron said, slightly muffled as he was trying to pull his head through his robes.

"What? You think Malfoy's outburst was just a show?" Harry questioned, stowing his wand in the pocket of his robes.

"It's not that outlandish, mate. Think of it, Istelle riding the train is perfect because the two can get together and act out little scenes to make everyone think they hate each other. Is it just coincidence that Istelle and Draco had their little skirmish right in front of us? And then Malfoy rants about her within earshot of Ginny, who would undoubtedly relay it to us?" Ron had finished dressing and sat down, staring pointedly at Harry. Why did Ron make so much sense but at the same time sound so ridiculous?

"Seems like a rather complicated charade? You really think Draco is intelligent enough to pull off something like that?" Harry sat opposite Ron, admitting to himself that Ron had made things add up quite nicely, but still refusing to believe it all. Was this how Hermione and Ron felt when he continually ranted that Draco was up to no good? No, this was different. Usually had very little evidence, only a dislike and mistrust of Malfoy to base his suspicions on. Ron had some very fine points, but still.

No, Hermione was ten times smarter than both of them put together. It wouldn't make sense that she would be fooled by such an obvious scam. Ron just didn't want to trust any Malfoy.

When the train had finally stopped Ron and Harry jumped off with Hermione and Ginny right behind them. Harry heard Hagrid calling the first years to him, a reassurance to Harry who had seen him only once over the summer.

"Hiya Hagrid!" Harry and Ron called together, their voices barely heard above the din of hundreds of students exiting the train. Hagrid had heard them none the less, maybe not what they said but their voices, and gave them a jovial wave as they headed off to find a carriage. The thestrals were still there, and though Harry was still somewhat taken aback by their sight, they no longer frightened him. They were majestic in their own creepy sort of way. Just as Harry had begun to heave himself into the carriage Ron tugged on the back of his robes.

"Where are Hermione and Ginny?" He asked, peering around at the people milling about them. Right after he spoke the words Ginny and Hermione broke through the crowd around them, closely followed by Istelle. Hermione brushed passed Harry and climbed into the carriage, Ginny following her while Istelle stood there looking rather uncomfortable. Harry and Ron climbed into the carriage and Istelle still stood there. Hermione leaned over Ginny and waved her in frantically, as the carriages had begun to slowly move. Istelle gripped the side of the door and brought herself swiftly into the carriage, shutting the door behind her.

"I invited Professor Istelle to ride with us," Hermione said cheerfully while Ron glared out the window.

"It was my idea!" Ginny chimed in, beaming at Istelle.

"Why?" Ron demanded, still studying the rather dull scenery outside the carriage.

"Because she's nice." Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"Are you all excited to be back at school?" Istelle inquired hesitantly, clearly trying to dispel the awkward silence. Hermione and Ginny erupted into excited speech about new classes and old friends.

Ron stared furiously at the familiar grounds of Hogwarts, remaining silent amidst Hermione and Ginny's constant chatter. Istelle smiled and nodded, glancing occasionally at Ron, unsure as to what she should say to him or if she should just ignore him in kind. Harry let out a silent sigh, he did like Istelle, she seemed nice enough, but his loyalty to Ron prevented him from engaging in the conversation.

He and Ron sat next to each other, both staring out their windows and pretending to examine the scenery as they approached the steps to the school.

Why did Ron mistrust Istelle so? He understood his misgiving with her being a Malfoy; even Harry had been slightly standoffish at first. But she had been staying at headquarters with them, and Harry had warmed to her. Not quite as much as Hermione and Ginny had, but he supposed that was a girl thing.

Istelle had helped them to continue their battle against the house and its dark defenses. She had often helped Mrs. Weasley with meals, and even relayed some of what was said in the meetings she attended. Harry rather liked that about her, the fact that she would speak with them as equals. She was frank and truthful, to an extent, and never seemed to think of them as children, like so many of the others did.

But, despite all of this Ron refused to think of her as anything but a Malfoy. She was the enemy to him, and it angered him that everyone else seemed to have embraced her. The least Harry could do was not put Ron through the stress of seeing his best friend befriend his supposed foe.

Harry contemplated this as they pulled up the entrance to Hogwarts. Would he be able to polite, but somewhat indifferent, to Istelle? Istelle who was kind and fun, but seemingly plagued by an inner sadness.

Well, he'd try his hardest. 


	3. Snape Thinks Deep Thoughts

Istelle settled herself in the chair behind her large mahogany desk. She felt her first day was going extremely well, despite an incident in her previous class. Though several students assured her that Mr. Longbottom was prone to such accidents, and several Slytherins went as far as to call him "bumbling", she still felt of a twinge of guilty responsibility that he would be spending the night in the hospital wing.  
Now that she admitted it to herself, she had been worrying about her class with Slytherin all morning, but Draco and his cronies had failed to show up. Though she felt slightly relieved, she was also peeved at his blatant disrespect. She had to remind herself to dock Slytherin's points heavily next time she saw the little punks again.

Her face fell into her hands as memories of Draco revealed themselves in her mind's eye. She knew this had nothing to do with Lucius; she was suffering a wave of nostalgia. Draco had not always been so twisted; it came from years of abuse from their father. She had always wondered about her little brother, who was only eight when she had left. She had contemplated taking Draco with her, but even at the time it had seemed ludicrous. Looking back now she felt a pang of guilt.

Had it been selfish of her to abandon Draco? Was it her fault he had turned out so? No, she mustn't blame herself. What could she have done? She had born the brunt of Lucius' abuse for Draco all his life, but she had realized that protecting him was destroying her. And that's what it boiled down to; she had chosen her own sanity over the welfare of her younger brother. Full of self loathing she gave a long sigh into her hands, trying to push the unwelcome and depressing thoughts from her head.

"Worn out already I see," Snape drawled, standing before her desk. "Perhaps you should mention to Dumbledore that you just might not be up to the task he has assigned you." Istelle had forgotten Snape was supposed to come by during lunch. How long had he been standing there?

"I think Dumbledore is quite competent in his assignment of this post, Severus." Istelle replied, finally removing her hands from her face and not even attempting to mask the contempt in her voice. "I also think that is quite obvious, seeing as how he has never appointed you." It was a low blow, she knew, but she did not care at the moment. If he was allowed to be a jerk to her, why should she play nice?  
Because he's your only hope to keep Lucius out of your mind, replied a voice in the back of her head. Looking up at Snape's face, she suddenly worried he might refuse to teach her Occlumency. His normally pale face was blotched with red; he seemed to be almost shaking with anger. Despite his rather frightening outward appearance his voice was deathly calm. "Stand up, now." He ordered, and despite what her instincts were screaming she did as he said, not wanting to push him any farther. "Stand right here in front of me." He snarled again, this time pointing to a spot only a foot in front of him. Moving swiftly from her position behind her desk, she stood exactly where he had pointed, and found herself rather close to Snape. It was almost disconcerting. He had a powerful presence, not completely because of his obvious fury.

She tilted her head back to look him in the eyes; she had never noticed how tall he was. He held his wand out in front of him, and Istelle pulled her own wand from the pockets of her robe to mimic him. "When you feel me in your mind, expel."

Before Istelle could protest that the directions were not nearly sufficient, the classroom dissolved and memories were flashing before her eyes. He shuffled through her mind, never resting but for a few seconds in each memory. Quick glimpses of her little brother on a small broom, riding around in circles; her mother with a true smile in her face, a feat not many believed she was capable of; her father, his gaze hard and almost frightening. The memories stopped flowing almost as suddenly as they had begun, and Istelle realized she was leaning back on her desk, panting.  
"You did not even attempt to rid your mind of me." Snape arched a single eyebrow, his expression so mocking Istelle suddenly felt the urge to strike him. "Why?"

"Perhaps you could have informed me a little more. I don't think telling me to 'expel' describes just how off putting the whole matter is." Istelle straightened her slim fitting purple robes while she tried to take hold of her anger.

"There is no way to explain to you how to do it. You must learn to do it by yourself."

Without further ado Snape once again pointed his wand at Istelle, and this time she heard him say "Legilimens!" The flow of memories wasn't so shocking now, and she was able to actually gain control as Snape flitted through still images of her friends from her time spent at Hogwarts. The classroom began to appear through a picture of a beautiful young girl with dark brown hair that Istelle vaguely remembered; the effect was much like viewing Snape and the wall behind him through a complex stained glass window. Istelle felt the image waver, threatening to be replaced by another image of memory. Instinctively, she fought, pushing back with a strange mental force. The more she tried to gain control of her mind the more clear the image of the room became. With a final thrust the image, that had become nothing more than a tint, dissolved and she was staring at a rather pale and panting Snape.

"Very good." Snape muttered, sounding rather put out, but impressed, despite himself. "Though I was able to do some searching. Try harder."

Once again, the dizzying appearance of memories whirling in her mind. Istelle tried to concentrate, but her efforts to dam the memories were like trying to block a wave with a stick. Her body began to tense, her muscles clenching so tight they began to ache. A memory of a large dining room halted in front of her eyes, a young girl sitting, with her legs dangling, on a chair opposite a rather younger Lucius. Lucius was digging into her mind, his cold blue eyes and his daunting wand focused on a six year old her. Envisioning the pink tennis shoes she had been wearing, pumping back and forth, Istelle managed to gather enough strength to force Snape from her mind again.

"What was that?" Her vision had cleared to reveal the classroom, with Snape staring down his hooked nose at her. "Why was Lucius accessing your mind when you were so young?"

"I had seen something, a door had been left open and I had peeked in." Istelle replied automatically, her eyes glazing slightly as she thought back on the warm summer afternoon that ran chills down her back. "I didn't want to tell daddy what I had seen because I knew he would beat me for eavesdropping."

"What had you seen?" Snape's voice was cautious; Istelle might have thought he was worried if she hadn't known he was much too black hearted to worry.

"He had been talking to some one; they were looking for some one. I didn't hear much, I accidentally pushed the door open a bit and it creaked." Istelle shrugged, trying to act casual even though the thought of the evening was making her heart slam against her breast bone.

"Well then, I will end our session now. I can only suggest that you try to clear your mind before you sleep. Perhaps you will learn from Potter's mistake, and do so." Snape turned around, his robes billowing in a rather dramatic fashion and exiting Istelle's classroom just before the lunch bell rang loudly in the hall.

Returning to her chair behind her desk and sinking into it, Istelle once again placed her hands in her face. Would she always live like this? Assailed by memories that haunted her waking hours and woke her in a cold sweat with tears streaming down her face?

She was no stronger now than she had been as that six year old girl, terrified of her father and all that he could do.

When she was young she could delude herself, believe that Lucius was a father who cared for her. But she now doubted that Lucius cared for anything.

Except her mother. She seemed to be the only thing that Lucius ever paid any mind to. Even his own children were a constant disappointment. An extension of himself that constantly shamed him.  
I'm like a crippled leg to him, Istelle thought with cynical humor. Something he admitted was apart of him, but that would only ever incur anger and frustration. He could try to work with her, try to mold her into something he would approve of, but she was unyielding and unwilling.

Just like a crippled leg. 


	4. Istelle is a Crippled Leg

Istelle settled herself in the chair behind her large mahogany desk. She felt her first day was going extremely well, despite an incident in her previous class. Though several students assured her that Mr. Longbottom was prone to such accidents, and several Slytherins went as far as to call him "bumbling", she still felt of a twinge of guilty responsibility that he would be spending the night in the hospital wing.  
Now that she admitted it to herself, she had been worrying about her class with Slytherin all morning, but Draco and his cronies had failed to show up. Though she felt slightly relieved, she was also peeved at his blatant disrespect. She had to remind herself to dock Slytherin's points heavily next time she saw the little punks again.

Her face fell into her hands as memories of Draco revealed themselves in her mind's eye. She knew this had nothing to do with Lucius; she was suffering a wave of nostalgia. Draco had not always been so twisted; it came from years of abuse from their father. She had always wondered about her little brother, who was only eight when she had left. She had contemplated taking Draco with her, but even at the time it had seemed ludicrous. Looking back now she felt a pang of guilt.

Had it been selfish of her to abandon Draco? Was it her fault he had turned out so? No, she mustn't blame herself. What could she have done? She had born the brunt of Lucius' abuse for Draco all his life, but she had realized that protecting him was destroying her. And that's what it boiled down to; she had chosen her own sanity over the welfare of her younger brother. Full of self loathing she gave a long sigh into her hands, trying to push the unwelcome and depressing thoughts from her head.

"Worn out already I see," Snape drawled, standing before her desk. "Perhaps you should mention to Dumbledore that you just might not be up to the task he has assigned you." Istelle had forgotten Snape was supposed to come by during lunch. How long had he been standing there?

"I think Dumbledore is quite competent in his assignment of this post, Severus." Istelle replied, finally removing her hands from her face and not even attempting to mask the contempt in her voice. "I also think that is quite obvious, seeing as how he has never appointed you." It was a low blow, she knew, but she did not care at the moment. If he was allowed to be a jerk to her, why should she play nice?  
Because he's your only hope to keep Lucius out of your mind, replied a voice in the back of her head. Looking up at Snape's face, she suddenly worried he might refuse to teach her Occlumency. His normally pale face was blotched with red; he seemed to be almost shaking with anger. Despite his rather frightening outward appearance his voice was deathly calm. "Stand up, now." He ordered, and despite what her instincts were screaming she did as he said, not wanting to push him any farther. "Stand, right here in front of me." He snarled again, this time pointing to a spot only a foot in front of him. Moving swiftly from her position behind her desk, she stood exactly where he had pointed, and found herself rather close to Snape. It was almost disconcerting. He had a powerful presence, not completely because of his obvious fury.

She tilted her head back to look him in the eyes; she had never noticed how tall he was. He held his wand out in front of him, and Istelle pulled her own wand from the pockets of her robe to mimic him. "When you feel me in your mind, expel."

Before Istelle could protest that the directions were not nearly sufficient, the classroom dissolved and memories were flashing before her eyes. He shuffled through her mind, never resting but for a few seconds in each memory. Quick glimpses of her little brother on a small broom, riding around in circles; her mother with a true smile in her face, a feat not many believed she was capable of; her father, his gaze hard and almost frightening. The memories stopped flowing almost as suddenly as they had begun, and Istelle realized she was leaning back on her desk, panting.  
"You did not even attempt to rid your mind of me." Snape arched a single eyebrow, his expression so mocking Istelle suddenly felt the urge to strike him. "Why?"

"Perhaps you could have informed me a little more. I don't think telling me to 'expel' describes just how off putting the whole matter is." Istelle straightened her slim fitting purple robes while she tried to take hold of her anger.

"There is no way to explain to you how to do it. You must learn to do it by yourself."

Without further ado Snape once again pointed his wand at Istelle, and this time she heard him say "Legilimens!" The flow of memories wasn't so shocking now, and she was able to actually gain control as Snape flitted through still images of her friends from her time spent at Hogwarts. The classroom began to appear through a picture of a beautiful young girl with dark brown hair that Istelle vaguely remembered, the effect was much like viewing Snape and the wall behind him through a complex stained glass window. Istelle felt the image waver, threatening to be replaced by another image of memory. Instinctively, she fought, pushing back with a strange mental force. The more she tried to gain control of her mind the more clear the image of the room became. With a final thrust the image, that had become nothing more than a tint, dissolved and she was staring at a rather pale and panting Snape.

"Very good." Snape muttered, sounding rather put out, but impressed, despite himself. "Though I was able to do some searching. Try harder."

Again, the dizzying appearance of memories whirling in her mind. Istelle tried to concentrate, but her efforts to dam the memories were like trying to block a wave with a stick. Her body began to tense, her muscles clenching so tight they began to ache. A memory of a large dining room halted in front of her eyes, a young girl sitting, with her legs dangling, on a chair opposite a rather younger Lucius. Lucius was digging into her mind, his cold blue eyes and his daunting wand focused on a six year old her. Envisioning the pink tennis shoes she had been wearing, pumping back and forth, Istelle managed to gather enough strength to force Snape from her mind again.

"What was that?" Her vision had cleared to reveal the classroom, with Snape staring down his hooked nose at her. "Why was Lucius accessing your mind when you were so young?"

"I had seen something, a door had been left open and I had peeked in." Istelle replied automatically, her eyes glazing slightly as she thought back on the warm summer afternoon that ran chills down her back. "I didn't want to tell daddy what I had seen because I knew he would beat me for eavesdropping."

"What had you seen?" Snape's voice was cautious; Istelle might have thought he was worried if she hadn't known he was much too black hearted to worry.

"He had been talking to some one; they were looking for some one. I didn't hear much, I accidentally pushed the door open a bit and it creaked." Istelle shrugged, trying to act casual even though the thought of the evening was making her heart slam against her breast bone.

"Well then, I will end our session now. I can only suggest that you try to clear your mind before you sleep. Perhaps you will learn from Potter's mistake, and do so." Snape turned around, his robes billowing in a rather dramatic fashion and exiting Istelle's classroom just before the lunch bell rang loudly in the hall.

Returning to her chair behind her desk and sinking into it, Istelle once again placed her hands in her face. Would she always live like this? Assailed by memories that haunted her waking hours and woke her in a cold sweat with tears streaming down her face?

She was no stronger now than she had been as that six year old girl, terrified of her father and all that he could do.

When she was young she could delude herself, believe that Lucius was a father who cared for her. But she now doubted that Lucius cared for anything.

Except her mother. She seemed to be the only thing that Lucius ever paid any mind to. Even his own children were a constant disappointment. An extension of himself that constantly shamed him.  
I'm like a crippled leg to him, Istelle thought with cynical humor. Something he admitted was apart of him, but that would only ever incur anger and frustration. He could try to work with her, try to mold her into something he would approve of, but she was unyielding. Unwilling even.

Just like a crippled leg. 


	5. Oh the Joy of DADA Class

Harry dropped his bag onto the desk next to Ron, who was obviously trying to appear engrossed in the book before him. Hermione shot Harry a look over Ron's head, but Harry only shrugged and plopped down into his chair, too exhausted to honestly care why Ron was avoiding conversation with the two of them.

His night had not been restful. He had tossed and turned, his mind trying to make sense of a nonsense situation. He had a small liking for Istelle, but he could understand why Ron would mistrust her. One thing he couldn't figure out was why he himself trusted her. And he did. He had no suspicions that Istelle might possibly have any sort of affiliation with her father. There was something about the way she spoke, and smiled, and walked ... something in the way she was that seemed to protest against her father and everything he represented.

Most of the time she held a mask of composure, seemed to generate an air of reserve. A defense constructed to assure everyone that she was happy and well-adjusted, and also to keep everyone at bay. When she was tired, as Harry had often seen her when she returned to the Headquarters from a mission, she seemed haunted.

He didn't know what could be eating her up inside, but a strange desire to find out budded in him. If he only knew what cast the shadows over her face he might be able to help her.

He choked back a derisive snort. How could he help her? He, who had is own damn problems with the past's influence on his mind. What was he supposed to do? Lay her down on a couch and scribble down notes as she poured out her heart and soul?

"Well?" Hermione's sharp inquiry cut into his thoughts, causing him to swivel around in his chair to face her.

"Well what?' He bit back, slightly perturbed by the sudden interruption in his thoughts, but softening the remark with a small smile only seconds afterwards.

"Did you finish reading the passage?" She asked again, staring pointedly at the unopened book before him. Harry glanced down at Ron's book, which lay flat on the desk before him, open to page 15. Flipping through his own book to page 15 he found bold ornate letters proclaiming that he had reached the second chapter of the book.

He raised his hand tentatively, trying to discreetly attract Istelle's attention. Istelle, who was sitting at her desk, her glance constantly scanning the room and the down turned heads of her students, picked him out within a few seconds. She soundlessly weaved her way through the gauntlet of desks to the one Harry was sharing with Hermione and Ron.

"Yes, Harry?" She inquired in a whisper, stopping beside him and bending down slightly.

"Professor Istelle, I was just wondering why we were starting on the second chapter?" Harry nodded down towards his book. Istelle gave him a half smile, clearly somewhat perplexed.

"Well, Harry I mentioned at the beginning of class that we were skipping the first chapter since it was just introduction rubbish. The second chapter jumps right into a detailed dissection of magical defense. I was made aware that most members of this class received some ... extracurricular help in this subject." She raised herself to her full height, smiling down at him with a single eyebrow arched.

Harry felt his cheeks warm slightly at her meaning, wondering who had informed Istelle about Dumbledore's Army. Smoothing out the wrinkles of the curve hugging fabric of her robes, she cast him one last breathtaking smile and moved away to prowl the room.

"Didn't you hear her say that the first time, Harry?" Hermione asked somewhat curiously, leaning down on to the table so that she could see Harry around Ron.

Harry found himself aware that he was staring at Istelle's retreating back, and pried his eyes away from her to look over at Hermione.

"No, I didn't." Harry said shortly, skimming through the book and picking out sentences here and there that seemed slightly interesting. It only took him a few seconds to realize that there was actually nothing interesting in the book, despite the foreboding cover work and dark illustrations.

Biting his lips to prevent himself from yelping, he shot his hand down to his ribs to rub the sore spot where Ron had elbowed him.

"Sorry mate, I didn't mean to jab you." Ron said, his ears burning red as Harry gave him a withering glare.

"Just keep your daggered elbows to yourself," Harry muttered, unable to keep himself from smiling at Ron's idiotic grin. "What? Have I got something on my face?"

"That sly move didn't make it passed my radar." Ron whispered conspiratorially, giving Harry an exaggerated wink. Harry scrunched his face up; confused by this remark, before it dawned in him that Ron had thought Harry had used a ploy to get Istelle to come over to them.

"Yeah, nothing gets by you." Hermione drawled sarcastically, letting Harry know oh so subtly that she was in the same frame of mind as Ron. Harry shook his head and flipped the pages of his book, hunting down interesting pictures and trying to ignore the knowing looks Ron and Hermione were giving each other.

Istelle did a final lap of the room before moving back to the center of the room and tapping on the dark green chalk board with her wand. "I'm assuming we've all finished with the assigned reading," she said loudly as she gave the board a firm tap to reveal neat print. "Can anyone give me the Ministry of Magic's Definition of 'defense'?"

Hermione's arms shot up, but surprisingly so did many others' in the classroom.

"Mr. Weasley? Care to inform us?"

Ron gave a shocked look, and then quickly regained himself, snapping his mouth shut and trying to quickly search the pages without Istelle noticing. "Ah ... well, the Ministry's exact opinion on that was hazy, but what I gathered was that the term is as the act of ... ah, defending yourself?" He finished lamely, wincing slightly as Istelle gave him a rather stern look.

She moved onto another student, to provide Ron with the very exact definition located on page 18. Ron leaned back in his chair and exhaled loudly, wiping the back of his hand over his forehead. Harry stifled a snigger as they spent the rest of the class covering all that had been read. This was excellent for Harry, as he had not read any of it and was able to take notes on the parts they were focusing on.

"As for homework-" Istelle began, but paused midsentence as a chorus of groans rose up. "Oh yes, I apologize. It's so dreadful of me to assign work on the very first day of school. However will I bring myself to do it? Page 21, review of chapter two. There's no need to define the terms, as we did this together in class. But if you would so kindly answer questions one through five to the best of your ability it would be greatly appreciated." Students laughed and smiled as Istelle's wand made another clicking sound against the chalkboard and all of the words disappeared to be replaced by directions.

Allowing them time to chat in the last few minutes of class, Istelle seated herself behind her desk and began shuffling papers around. Harry was suddenly aware again that he had been staring at Istelle and immediately placed all of his effort into studying the fraying seams of his bag. He'd need a new one soon. Should have picked one up in Diagon Alley, but it hadn't occurred to him. He could probably find one in Hogsmeade on the next weekend. If there would even be any future Hogsmeade trips.

Harry glanced over to find Hermione was scribbling down the assignment into a small journal. And to his utter shock, as was Ron. Ron was less thorough than Hermione, who was copying word for word, but still. There it was, a small leather bound journal, the date at the top of the page, and a small inspirational message adorning the corner.

"'The reward for a task completed properly now is the gratification of a job well done later.'?" Harry read aloud, his eyebrows rising in question at Ron, who turned several shades of pink.

"Shut up," he mumbled as he snapped the journal closed, only to have a slender and well manicured hand pull it from his grasp.

"This must be useful, Mr. Weasely." Istelle said, flipping through the mostly blank pages to find where Ron had scribbled today's homework. "Your influence, Miss Granger, I presume? You might want to make sure to specify that you are to do question one through five, to avoid confusion." Istelle placed it back in front of him, as he quickly gathered it and the rest of his supplies and shoved them unceremoniously into his bag.

"Professor Istelle, how long will we be doing bookwork?" Seamus, who was seated with Dean at the table in front of Harry, Hermione and Ron, turned around in his chair to ask.

"While I'm sure many in this group don't require much review, and were much rather prefer to jump right into learning defensive spells and tactics without preamble, I'm afraid we are looking at using these books for at least another week or so."

"But why? We already know most of this, what's the point of going over it again?" Lavendar called out from her place between Neville and Parvati across the room. Istelle moved away, to stand in the center of the room, turning slightly to look at all of the students. It wasn't an intense scrutiny, but it seemed like it was the first time Istelle had taken a very good look at the students.

"We're missing some students, are we not? Yes, Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle. Well, it's a shame they've decided to deprive our class of their presence." She sighed and then moved to the front of the classroom, facing the students. "Do all of your teachers take such insolence? Allow you to question their teaching methods with such audacity?" There was no edge to her voice, and her warm smile further confirmed she wasn't being serious.

"All but Snape." Harry said without thinking, causing most of the Gryffindors, and even a few Slytherins, to laugh openly.

"Oh, now there's a man I wouldn't question on any aspect." Istelle replied, making a face of mock fear. "Well, the reason we are reviewing that which you already know is to further cement the information in your mind and give those who don't already have the knowledge the opportunity to gain it. It's just leveling the field, making sure when we get into the complicated things we all start from the same base and are all prepared for what is to come. Now, unless we have any further questions-"

"Why are we allowed to call you Professor Istelle, but we're docked points if we even think Professor McGonagall's first name?" Dean called out, being purposefully obtuse and using Istelle's words as a means to open conversation rather than close the one present as they were intended.

"Well, it's a respect issue, Mr. Finnigan. Professor McGonagall is a woman that commands, and deserves, vast amounts of respect. Though I assure you I merit courtesy and appreciation as well, I am simply more comfortable with my first name. It's a very nice name, if I do say so myself." She nodded to another student as their hand shot up into the air, her smile growing wider. She did seem to smile a lot, but it didn't come off as a weird sort of nervous tic. It sat well with her, she was comfortable smiling, and her smiles were genuine and beautiful and lit up her face. She had smiled twenty-seven times in this class alone.

Sweet mother of pearl! Harry had been counting her smiles? He didn't remember making a conscious decision to count them, didn't even know when he might have started counting. But he was sure, as sure as he was that he was a wizard named Harry Potter attending a magical school that trained young witches and wizards, that she had smiled twenty-seven times.

"What is your last name?" Ron called out after Istelle had answered Parvati's question about the natural color of her hair. Istelle suddenly froze, the air in the room seeming to freeze with her. The moment passed and Harry believed he had only imagined the genuine dislike he had seen cross Istelle's face.

"Why do you inquire, Mr. Weasely? Your actions had given me the impression you were well aware of my last name."

"Well, maybe the rest of the class would like to know." Ron stated, ignoring the incredulous look Harry was giving him and the seething glare Hermione was directing right at him.

"Why would they? I'd say it's pretty inconsequential; after all, a name is just a name. You read Shakespeare? That was one of the themes in Romeo & Juliet, not one of his best works or a personal favorite of mine, but still an excellent piece of literature. Perchance you've read Juliet's soliloquy in which she is on her balcony and Romeo is below in the orchard and she ponders just how little weight a name really holds and theorizes that a name does not make a person. One of her more famous lines is 'a rose by any other name is still a rose'." Istelle had moved from the front of the room to stand behind the chair placed in front of her desk. Her voice was calm and even, but her hands were gripping the chair so tightly her knuckles had gone white and betrayed her anger. "Perhaps you just think upon that Mr. Weasely, and maybe we'll have a little discussion about it when you are serving detention with me this Saturday."

The hush in the room as Istelle seated herself at her desk was broken suddenly by the sound of a loud crash and several Slytherins bursting into laughter. Neville was spread out on the floor, the back legs of his chair missing and the burly Slytherin boys behind him barely able to contain their glee. Istelle jumped from her desk and rushed over to Neville, immediately noting that he was conscious but had a large lump on the back of his head. She conjured up a stretcher and raised him onto it, rushing from the room, but not before warning them all to keep reasonably quite until the bell rang.

Lavendar, who had been seated next to him, tried to sit his chair up right, only to have the Slytherins to burst into another round of mindless guffawing as it clattered back to the floor. Slightly miffed, Hermione stood up and with a flick her wand made the back legs reappear, casting the troublemakers who had been behind Neville a dark glare.

Before any harsh words could be exchanged, the bell let out its shrill cry and the students trickled out into the hall. The Gryffindors muttering curse words under their breath, and the Slytherins relishing in the nasty prank their own had pulled off. 


	6. Improvements and Ruffled Feathers

The dungeon door swung closed after the last student, muffling the inane prattle that seemed to be constantly spewing from their mouths. The first week of classes had finally drawn to a close, and Snape was looking forward to a private and peaceful weekend.

Seated at his desk, Snape pushed a pile of recently graded papers away from him, tossing his correcting quill on top. His third year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff class had disappointed him, yet again. They had failed to grasp the importance of memorizing the proper way to measure various ingredients. It was dry material, he knew this, but it was still required. Potions was meticulous work, and even a small mistake could have dire consequences.

He would have them cover all of the work again, but he wasn't about to waste his own time because of their foolishness. He had a very strict teaching schedule, from the very first day of school to the very last, which had to be followed if his pupils were to learn all that was required. He made a mental note to assign all of the work from the chapters they had spent the first week of school covering for homework on Monday, and it would all be due by the next class on Wednesday.

That was odd, he wasn't expecting anyone. Perhaps he had only thought-

No, the rather persistent knock came again. Must be a student who had forgotten something in his classroom, Snape thought, as he stood and made his way towards the door. He would have to deduct points for such carelessness; it was not to be tolerated.

Pulling open the door to admit the student, a disapproving look already positioned on his face, he looked down his crooked nose to discover that it was not a student that had come knocking.

"Severus? I was wondering if I could have a word with you." Dumbledore asked, though it was not a request, and Snape knew it. He moved aside to allow Dumbledore's entry, and to his chagrin watched Istelle follow in behind him. Closing the door, he schooled his features so they betrayed no emotion.

Istelle did not appear to have any such ability. She was obviously uncomfortable and clearly desiring to be anywhere but in Snape's classroom at this moment. Her furtive glances towards the door didn't go unnoticed by Snape. Dumbledore either, apparently, as he motioned for Istelle to take a seat next to him before the desk and requested Snape shut the door and return to his seat.

"I believe the two of you met the first day of school to begin Istelle's Occlumency lessons. If I hear correctly, she was able to force you out of her mind, but unable to prevent you from entering her mind in the first place. Have you had any lessons since?" Dumbledore asked calmly, his clear blue gaze focused on Snape. He, of course, already knew the answer to his question. He must have asked Istelle, and her answer was most likely the reason for this impromptu meeting.

"No, sir, we haven't had the chance to arrange another meeting. But I did give Istelle clear instructions that will benefit her in our next lesson." Snape said, steepling his fingers under his chin, then adding as an afterthought as he shifted his eyes from Dumbledore's calm figure to Istelle. "If she has followed them, that is."

If it was possible, Istelle's discomfort seemed to grow. She sat up a bit straighter, and smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles out of the vibrant green fabric of her robes. Apparently she hadn't followed his instructions. An odd kind of disappointment spread through Snape. He had so hoped Istelle would be more willing to apply herself than Potter had been.

"And have you, Istelle?" Dumbledore asked as he turned towards her, his voice even and his face blank.

"Well, yes. I mean, no. Well, it's kind of in between." Istelle gave a heavy sigh and threw her hands up. "I've tried, I have. But I just can't seem to clear my mind before I fall asleep. There are things-" Istelle's glance flickered from Dumbledore's face to Snape's for a second, "-I can't stop thinking about."

"Just as I had expected, she doesn't have the ability to control her emotions." Snape remarked severely. His anger rose, and he doubted she had even tried to do as he had instructed.

"Yes, Severus, I lack the ability, but I do possess the capacity. And the only degree of separation between the two is education. Perchance that is where my problem lies." Istelle bit back, her voice rising as her face heated.

"Are you seriously suggesting I am at fault?"

"I am hardly suggesting it Severus. I am blatantly stating that I don't believe you have the proper character required of your profession."

"Miss Malfoy I will not have you questioning-"

"Stop calling me that!"

"Why do you dislike your given name so? Is it because you feel by openly shunning your father's name is will some how give credibility to your masquerade?"

"Oh, how clever Severus. No I am the one masquerading? And what exactly is it that you are doing when you grovel at my father's feet? Pretending? Gathering information perhaps, for the Order? Where do your loyalties lie, and how can anyone truly determine the answer?"

"That's enough!" Dumbledore's voice rang out through the dungeon classroom, and he looked truly angered for the first time through out the meeting. His steely gaze shifted between Snape and Istelle, who were both standing, having risen from their seats as they had shot insults back and forth. Istelle's fists were clenched and she looked ready to strike Snape.

"I understand that some of us have our differences. But we need to set them aside so we may work together for the greater good." Dumbledore continued, not once rising from his chair but his voice boomed through the room and the two other occupants found themselves returning to their seats without even consciously deciding to. "I obviously didn't stress how important it is that Istelle learn to protect herself from Lucius' prying. Let me clarify. This is a mission, and it is your only assignment until it is completed. If Lucius is able to glean even a fraction of the information Istelle holds, it could be disastrous for us. I will leave you two now, consider this your second meeting. And I hope that you two will make a more promising effort now that I have explained myself to you."

Dumbledore raised from his chair, his face once again a mask of calm patience, but his eyes flashed with slight annoyance as he looked pointedly at them both, his gaze adding more weight to his words. He let himself out of the classroom quietly, and pulled the door shut firmly behind him.

Istelle was the first to move, crossing her ankles together and smoothing her robes over her knees. With a small cough, which one could truly only describe as "dainty", she looked Snape in the eyes and made an odd jerking nod motion with her head that signified she was ready to continue her Occlumency lessons.

"Well, as you have already stated, you were not able to accomplish the task I set for you at the end of our last lesson." Snape said coldly as he rose from his chair, skirting his desk so that he stood before Istelle. She stood, dragging herself up to her full height, which he begrudgingly admitted was impressive, her chin tilted defiantly and a purposeful gleam in her eye.

Their spat seemed to have given her an obsessive determination to prove something to him. He wasn't sure if she wanted him to see that she could indeed master Occlumency, or wanted to prove her overall magical prowess; either way he couldn't help but be curious about what Istelle was capable of when she truly applied herself.

"Well, as I believe I made clear, I am expecting more instruction this time around." She bit back, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Oh yes, I think I do remember you alluding to that, in between the immature play yard taunts. Somewhere after 'stupid head', but before 'I know you are but what am I?' correct?" Snape pulled his wand from a concealed fold within his robes, twirling it into his grasp with indolent laziness.

"Oh ho, don't act like you just sat there stoically while I berated you. You opened your mouth well enough!" Istelle seemed to be shaking with fury, and Snape sighed with frustration.

"I did not argue with you, I defended myself against your juvenile insults-" Snape held up his hand to silence Istelle, who had made an angry noise, lest she interrupt him. "Miss Malfoy, Occlumency is not just a flimsy incantation, it is the ability to control and protect your own mind. To protect your mind from others, you must be able to empty it of all thought and emotion on command. And in order to do that, you must learn to control your emotions."

Color rose through Istelle's cheeks, making her lookfeverish. She was undeniably aware of her own passionate and fiery nature, but reminding her that such a volatile personality was a hindrance where Occlumency was concerned gave Snape a sadistic sort of pleasure.

Locking onto her eyes, which were dancing with anger, Snape pointed his wand directly at Istelle and was at once within her mind.

Sorting through years of memories and thoughts and feelings, Snape caught glimpses of people and places, heard Istelle's thoughts about the overcast sky and a tacky dress she saw a woman wearing on a bus. Surrounded by an array of uninteresting pieces of information, Snape realized just how mundane Istelle's life in the States had been. She had clearly enjoyed the slow pace, reveling in the pleasant simplicity that a world absent of magic had been.

Delving deeper into her recollections, he moved past the bright cheery memories, where the colors were vibrant and the smiles and laughter abundant, to a place in Istelle's life when she had clearly been unhappy. The pigments were subdued, sepia toned, and everything seemed to be hushed.

As he flitted past drab memories of Malfoy manor, images of Lucius and Narcissa and two blonde hair children, who he surmised were very young versions of Draco and Istelle, appeared here and there. Sadness permeated the memories, a melancholy so deep it seemed tangible. Snape paid no mind to the fact that the images became blurred, the voices seemed far away, until he was staring at Istelle in his dungeon office. She had forced him out, though by her glazed expression she remained within her thoughts, dwelling on her past.

Flicking his wand and muttering again, he tried once more to force himself back into her psyche. But his surroundings did not even waver, and he remained resolutely in his office, and not in Istelle's mind.

Istelle began to shake her head slowly, as if trying to physically dispel her memories. "No, I don't want to remember that." Pressing her hand to her stomach, she took a shuddering breath as her eyes closed slowly.

"How did you do that?" Snape demanded softly, utterly shocked that Istelle had truly protected herself from his penetration. Istelle's eyes snapped open, and her hand flew to her mouth.

"I did it? I didn't just 'expel' you, but I prevented your entrance in the first place?" Running both her hands through her golden hair, a smile slid across her face. Her features were beaming, and the darkness of the previous minutes was forgotten. Snape felt a prickling of annoyance.

"Yes, very well. If I had known your head would swell to such an extent, I would never have allowed you to block my attempts." Turning away, he stowed his wand within his robes, and then made his way back to take his seat behind his desk.

"Oh, dear Severus, don't play like you 'allowed' me to do anything. I bested you, such is life, let us move forward into the future where I shall overcome you many times again." Her face lit up with her signature dazzling smile. Due to the nearly blinding whiteness of her perfect teeth, Snape had come to associate bright lights that shocked your eyes with their suddenness and left patches of black in your vision, with that infuriating smile.

Falling into his chair, he pulled the stack of papers on his desk in front of him, staring down at them unseeing as he held his grading quill aloft, and failing to realize they were the papers he had already graded. He heard rather than saw Istelle plop into the chair in front if his desk, curling his legs under her as she had the first night they had all returned to Hogwarts and she had come to ask him to give her Occlumency lessons.

"Miss-" Snape caught himself, he had no true motivation to tempt her anger, and he was rather enervated and thus not up to another go with her. "Istelle, we are finished for tonight. Practice clearing your mind-"

"Of all thought and emotion, yeah I've got you." Istelle finished for him absently, her eyes focused on something just behind his head. Snape turned his head to study the shelf of vials and decanters, all filled with arcane and alchemical liquids.

"Has something caught your attention?" He questioned, swiveling back around to face Istelle, who seemed to be thinking very hard about something, her cursed brazen smile missing. Something fleeting passed across her eyes, so expressive they seemed to speak more than her mouth, which was indeed a feat in of itself, and then she was staring him in the eyes, her courage clearly bolstered.

"That's unicorn blood, isn't it?" She demanded, her hand rising to point at a curvy glass bottle that contained a shimmering silver liquid, like melted platinum. Snape nodded his head slowly, glancing back at the unicorn blood and again to Istelle's drawn face.

"It is necessary for more...delicate potions." Snape pronounced slowly, weighing each word carefully on his tongue before letting it roll passed his lips and sank into the space between Istelle and him, which had grown into an immeasurable abyss in mere moments.

"Yes, potions I'm sure the Ministry of Magic wouldn't easily approve of, hmm?" She questioned acidly, her voice high and breathy, like she had just run up to the tallest tower in Hogwarts and then back.

"Well, the Ministry also wouldn't have approved of me preparing Wolfsbane in the school, but that didn't seem to ruffle any feathers." Snape bit back, unsure why they had reverted back to their caustic exchanges when he had felt something very near...friendliness, after Istelle had managed to prevent his attempts of penetration.

"And I actually thought..." Istelle let her voice trail away, as her eyes slipped from his and she retreated into her mind.

"Thought what, exactly?" Snape prompted, his voice quiet from rage. Rage at Istelle for being so fussy about less than half a liter that had lasted him years, and would quite possibly last him his whole life. No, he could not guarantee that the unicorn the blood had been retrieved from had died of natural causes, as this was rare practice for fear that a sickness or infection could reach the bloodstream and cause impurities in the blood. And, once again, no, he could not deny that he had asked, had even thought of asking, or would have cared to ask. Sure, he felt a slight pang that he held proof that such a noble and magnificent animal was dead, but not the sort of gut wrenching guilt that would have made him turn his head away in disgust at the thought of a vial being a staple in his office.

Istelle did not reply to him, just shook her head mutely, and then stood, making her way to the door. As her hand wrapped around the doorknob, she paused, raising her head, but not looking back at him.

"I thought I was wrong, so many others were wrong. And that you truly deserved my respect." The words left her mouth in a rush, as if she had to get it out before she thought better of it. And then she was gone, flying out the door with the flash of her green robes and blonde hair, leaving in her wake a scent of tropical flowers and exotic fruits.  
t you truly deserved my respect." The words left her mouth in a rush, as if she had to get it out before she thought better of it. And then she was gone, flying out the door with the flash of her green robes and blonde hair, leaving in her wake a scent of tropical flowers and exotic fruits. 


End file.
